Shell Shock
by film princess
Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.
1. Trust

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

A/N: I haven't written a fanfic in ages now but I was definitely starting to miss it! This is my first attempt at writing a story for a show other than Supernatural, so hope you like it and please review!

Peter Burke wasn't blind. In fact, he was quite the opposite. The FBI in him helped to keep a close eye on Caffrey, picking up on every twitch and sound that was out of the ordinary. The friend in him wondered how long he'd be willing to pretend he hadn't noticed the changes.

When Neal had zoned out in his office earlier, Peter was willing to chalk it up to lack of sleep. It was clear from his red-rimmed eyes that Neal hadn't been getting his eight hours in lately, but that was to be expected after what the poor guy had experienced.

Peter knew Neal was lying to him when he had insisted that he was holding up. What Peter didn't understand was why Neal wouldn't just come clean and admit that he was a mess. It wasn't like anyone would blame him for feeling that way. After all, it had only been two months since the explosion; two months since he lost the woman he loved.

The more he watched his consultant struggle, the more he worried about him. He knew if Neal kept spiraling out of control that he would have to say something to him, but he was hoping his friend would feel comfortable enough to approach him first. Until then, he'd continue trying to distract Neal with their new cases.

Glancing up from the Architect's file strewn all over his desk, Peter's gaze immediately locked onto Caffrey across the FBI office. To the untrained eye, Neal seemed to be adjusting back into his old role just fine. But to Agent Burke, his young friend was coming apart at the neatly pressed seams.

He frowned as Neal attempted to copy the Architect's customized signature and was forced to relinquish his pencil when his hand refused to cooperate. Neal quickly tried to cover up the noticeable shaking by clasping his hands together in front of his mouth, hoping the semi-casual position wouldn't draw any unwanted attention.

Even from Peter's distance, he could see the barely contained panic in his friend's eyes. But instead of admitting that he wasn't ready to start working again, Neal opted to give himself a mental pep talk, shook off the dregs of his flashback, and returned his focus to the job at hand.

Peter had seen enough. Clearly throwing work at the guy wasn't going to be enough this time around, and he wasn't about to let Neal continue suffering alone. Picking up his cell phone, Peter made a quick call to their mutual little friend, setting up a time and place to meet that afternoon. He wanted to get the full story before confronting Neal, and if he was going to stage an intervention, he knew he'd need all the help he could get.

After jumping through Mozzie's ridiculous hoops, he finally got the inside scoop. Neal was an emotional wreck, and not just because he had lost Kate. He was also terrified that the bomb had been meant for him and that there was still a target on his back.

It's one thing to know who your enemy is, and an entirely different thing to know you have an enemy but no identity to attach to it. Anyone on the street or even in the office could be a suspect, and that heightened sense of paranoia was enough to drive anyone insane.

Neal was doing his best to put up a façade and pretend like he had moved on. But his biggest mistake was underestimating how much Peter cared about him. He wasn't about to sit idly by and let his friend self-destruct. It was time he had a little chat with his consultant friend.

When Peter stepped back into the office after his "lunch break" with Mozzie, he made his way to the upstairs balcony, called Neal's name to get his attention, then proceeded to give him the double finger point.

"Meet me in my office."

Neal put his pencil down once again and rose, a bit unsteadily, to his feet. "Comin'."

Peter nodded, then went to sit behind his desk and wait. He knew what he had to do, but interrogations were much easier when you didn't know the person being interrogated. He looked up as Neal made his way into the room.

"What's up?"

"Still working on that signature?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm almost done though."

"Did you eat lunch yet?"

Neal was slightly thrown by the seemingly random question but he shook his head. "Nah. Wasn't hungry." When Peter shot him his patented frown, Neal quickly went on the defensive. "I'll eat later, Peter. What's the big deal?"

"Close the door."

Now Neal had a look of apprehension on his face. "Why?"

"Because you and I need to talk."

"That doesn't sound good…" Nevertheless, Neal did as he was told, though he stood right in front of the closed door just in case he needed a quick exit.

"Take a seat." Peter wasn't about to allow Neal to turn rabbit and run on him.

Neal stubbornly held his ground, wanting a few answers first. "What's this about, Peter?"

"Anonymous tip," Peter supplied vaguely, thinking back over his meeting with Mozzie.

"A new case?" Suddenly Neal's interest seemed more piqued but he refused to let his guard down without further information.

"More or less," Peter hedged.

"What about the Architect?"

"We'll get to it. When we're done."

"Cryptic much?"

"Take a seat and I'll tell you all about it." A little give, a little take.

Neal wasn't a fool. The tension in the room was palpable and he just wanted out. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his desk. "I really should be…"

"Neal. Sit. Now."

"Sitting." Neal shuffled forward with his head down, sitting stiffly on the edge of one of Peter's chairs. It was obvious that Neal was uncomfortable and more than a little tense. Good. More often than not, that was how you wrung a confession out of someone.

Peter stood and made his way to the front of his desk, leaning against it to close the gap between himself and Caffrey. Neal sat back slightly, his right knee jiggling up and down and his hands wringing in his lap as he tried to hide the shaking that had started up again.

Peter took pity on him when his friend refused to look up from his lap. He reached out and put a steady hand on Neal's knee, bringing his restless leg to a halt. "Hey. It's okay."

Neal swallowed, then nodded with a forced smirk, no where near the classic charm he tended to exude. "So uh… What's this new case about?"

Peter sat back, giving Neal a bit more space to collect himself. "A good friend of mine witnessed a terrible crime. Turns out a trap may have been set for him and someone he loved died in his place."

Neal's eyes dropped back to his lap again and he clenched his jaw to keep that from trembling as well. He balled his hands into fists so tightly that the skin around each knuckle had turned white.

"Worst part of the case is that whoever set the trap was never caught."

Any hope Neal had been clinging to that this "case" was just a horrible coincidence vanished after Peter's last statement.

The agent leaned forward again, keeping his voice low. "Neal, we're going to get them. I promise you that. And I'm going to keep you safe."

So he knew. Somehow Peter figured out what had been haunting Neal for the past two months. But how? He had only discussed his fears with one other person. Understanding suddenly dawned on him.

"Your so-called anonymous tip… It was Mozzie, wasn't it." When Peter didn't respond, Neal scoffed with an annoyed shake of his head. "I can't believe you two have been talking behind my back."

Burke sighed. "He's worried about you, Neal. We both are."

"Well don't, cause I'm fine."

Peter quirked a skeptical eyebrow at his friend. "You're fine?"

"Yes." Neal put as much conviction behind that one word as he possibly could, but Peter was staring at him in such a calculating way, he knew the agent would see right through it. Neal reluctantly dropped his gaze again.

"Yeah, I'm not buyin' it."

Neal was starting to feel trapped and his heart was pounding ruthlessly in his ribcage. "I…I've got more work to do." Neal started to stand up but Peter placed a hand against his chest in warning and gave him a light shove.

"Don't even think about it. We're not done here." Peter was taken aback by the intensity of his friend's heartbeat against the palm of his hand.

Neal dropped back into his seat, on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "What do you want me to say, Peter? Huh? That I wish it had been _me_ on that plane instead of Kate? That if you hadn't shown up, I'd have been splattered all over that tarmac too? That the idea of someone out there wantin' me dead scares the hell outta me? What exactly is it that you want to hear so badly?"

"The truth, Neal! Not this 'I'm fine' bullshit! If you're not ready to be back in the field, I need to know cause if you freeze up out there it could mean life or death."

Neal glanced up at him again, a hurt expression on his face. "You know I'd never jeopardize you or the team, Peter."

"It's not the rest of us I'm worried about," he responded pointedly. "Listen to me, the fear and the pain you're dealing with aren't going to go away just because you ignore them. You need to talk to someone, Neal. We've got perfectly qualified people working here that…"

Neal was already shaking his head. "I can't."

Peter took a steadying breath to rein in his frustration. He had to remind himself Neal was the victim in all this and losing his temper wasn't going to help anyone. "Why not?"

"What if it had been El?" The words were spoken so softly Peter wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"What's that?"

"What if it had been Elizabeth on that plane, Peter? Could you sit in front of some stranger with a notepad and openly discuss all your thoughts and fears?"

Peter tried putting himself in Neal's shoes. "No, I suppose not. But you've got to talk to someone, buddy, or it's just gonna keep eating you up on the inside. What about Alex? She seems like the type to throw in her two cents. Or Haversh…"

"I trust _you_, Peter."

Peter wasn't sure why, but he was taken aback by the unadulterated conviction behind that comment. It wasn't the first time Neal had said that too him, but to be fair he was pretty out of it last time it happened thanks to Nurse Ratched and her mystery drugs. But did Neal really trust him more than all his friends? There was only one way to find out.

"Okay then. Go grab your coat and hat. Give me a minute to talk to Hughes and I'll meet you by the elevator."

"Where are we going?" There was uncertainty and trepidation mixed in with the curiosity of his question.

Peter smiled. "Guess you're just gonna have to trust me."

TBC

Please review!


	2. Family

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

Neal sat, exhausted and subdued, in the passenger seat as Peter maneuvered them through late afternoon traffic. He had his hands clasped in his lap to prevent anymore "episodes" from taking place under his partner's close scrutiny, and his head rested against the window, staring out at the scenery without really seeing any of it.

Peter continually glanced over at his friend. He knew Neal wasn't a child anymore but it was hard to see him as an adult when he looked so lost and broken. Peter was the first to break the silence.

"You're gonna get through this, you know."

Neal blinked as he came back to his surroundings, then looked over at Peter in confusion. "Sorry, what?"

"I said it's not gonna always be like this. It'll get easier."

Neal turned back to his window. "God, I hope not," he stated softly, more to himself than his partner. If it got easier, that would mean he was forgetting about Kate, learning how to move on without her. Between those two choices, he'd rather take the pain.

With that, they arrived at their destination. Neal looked up at the familiar house, then swiveled back to his friend with a petulant huff of annoyance. "Peter, what are we doing here? I thought you were bringing me home."

"This _is _home, Neal. I live here, remember?"

"Let me rephrase then. What am _I _doing here?"

"You, my friend, are finally going to get a good night's sleep under the watchful eyes of myself, El, and Satchmo." When Neal continued to frown at him with a look akin to betrayal, Peter decided to elaborate. "I figured a change of scenery might do you some good."

"I appreciate the thought, Peter, but I'd rather just be alone tonight."

"Not an option. You alone with that overactive brain of yours can only lead to trouble." He paused, expecting Neal to argue the point but his partner simply deflated before his eyes, conceding to Peter's logic and resigning himself to a long night of probing questions. Peter shut off the engine. "Let's go, pal. El's waiting."

Neal grumbled under his breath as he forced himself to get out of Peter's car, slamming the door a bit harder than was technically necessary.

A slight smirk crossed Peter's face as he was once again visualizing what Neal must have been like as a kid. He held an arm out as their paths converged on the way to the front door. "Come on. If you promise to eat her cooking, I promise to keep her from smothering you with hugs all night."

Wrapping his arm comfortingly around Neal's shoulders when his friend balked at the idea of being coddled, they made it inside and seconds later Elizabeth appeared from the direction of the kitchen. She immediately drew Neal into a hug, making Peter chuckle to himself. _And so it begins._

"Neal…!"

Neal wanted to pretend the attention was unwanted, but if he were honest with himself, the embrace made him feel better; more so than anything else had in the past two months. He returned the hug and when they broke apart, he managed to give her a genuine smile.

"How're you holdin' up, hunny?" El asked, real concern in her voice and expression.

"Glad to be out of the orange jumpsuits…" When she gave him her stern, motherly frown, he was forced to reconsider her question. "Just taking it one day at a time, Elizabeth, but I'm hangin' in there."

Peter clapped him gently on the back, then gave his shoulder a light squeeze for support. He knew bringing Neal to El would be a good decision. She had ways of getting truths out of people that would make any FBI agent jealous.

"You look like you haven't eaten in days. Why don't you boys come on in and get ready for dinner. It'll be out in a minute or two."

Neal gave Peter a sideways glance and saw the pointed look the agent was sending his way which clearly stated _we've got some time to talk then_. Neal quickly turned back to Elizabeth, his expression on the borderline of pleading. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Oh no, sweety. You just make yourself at home. The guest room is ready and Mozzie dropped off a bag for you earlier in case you needed anything for the night."

Neal made a mental note to make his friend pay for all his _help _lately next time he saw him. Peter's lips puckered as he tried desperately to keep the full-fledged smile off his face as Neal struggled to come up with an adequate response.

"Great. Thank you. I guess I'll just…?" He motioned to the staircase and Peter gave him a curt nod of consent.

"Of course! Go right ahead, Neal," El confirmed. "Upstairs and to the left. I'll call you down when the table is set."

She gave her husband a quick peck on the lips and an affectionate pat on the chest. "Hi, babe." She glanced at the staircase to make sure Neal was out of hearing range. "How's he _really_ doing?"

"I'll let you know when I find out. Take your time with the dinner, okay?"

She winked at him with a loving smile. "I'll take care of the timing, you take care of Neal." She gave him another kiss, this time on the cheek, before bustling back towards the kitchen.

Peter removed his coat and tie and hung them up by the door before scratching his dog behind the ears. "Hey, Satch." He waited a few more seconds, sighed with resignation, then went upstairs to find his charge.

Neal was sitting on the edge of the guest bed, absently massaging his right hand which was shaking again and no doubt starting to ache from the overuse of his muscles. He was staring at the closet on the far side of the room, but Peter doubted it was because he was fascinated by the woodwork.

"Where are you right now?" he asked gently, hoping not to startle Neal as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

Neal dropped his gaze down to his shaking hand, curling it into a light fist around his other thumb which was putting pressure against his quivering palm.

"I can't get her outta my head, Peter. I see her smiling at me, then nothin' but flames. I've been tryin' to remember some of the good times we shared before the explosion, but I always end up coming back to that day."

"You're tryin' too hard. Give it time."

"…You know, Kate was always a fan of the classics," Neal ventured with a sad smile on his face. "The Prince and the Pauper was her favorite, I guess because we were walking down similar paths when we first met.

"We started off with nothing; an empty wine bottle and unrealistic dreams of living in the lap of luxury. I thought my love for her would be enough." He turns desperate eyes to Peter, tears glistening within them but refusing to fall. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Peter's heart constricted at the open emotion in his friend's face and he immediately searched his mind for words of comfort. "Fowler's a bad guy, Neal. And powerful. He could have manipulated her into helping him, just like he did to you."

The first tear made its way down Neal's pale cheek as he turned away again, head dropping in defeat. "I want to believe that. I do. But I can't. You were right, Peter. She was working with him the whole time to get that music box. It's the only thing that makes sense. I just didn't want to face the truth."

Peter pushed himself away from the wall and sat on the bed beside Neal, not touching him but giving him the option for support if his stubborn friend was willing to take it. "The truth hurts sometimes, buddy. But in this case, I'm not sure we'll ever know what really happened. It won't do you any good to keep searching for answers you may never find."

Neal nodded silently, then dried his eyes with the back of his hand.

Peter lifted his own hand to pat his friend on the shoulder but thought better of it and let it fall uselessly back to his lap with pursed lips. El was usually the one who came up with the right things to say in these situations. Peter was always uncomfortable when there were tears involved.

"Remember her as the woman you fell in love with, Neal. The rest doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me." Neal dropped his head into his hands in shame. "God, I don't know why I'm still such a mess. You'd think after two months I would've had time to adjust."

"Actually I wouldn't. You've got a good heart, Neal. The downside of that is they're easier to break and much harder to put back together again. You're a tough kid, but no one expects you to bounce back like nothin' ever happened."

When Neal chose to stay hidden behind his hands in silence, Peter continued, hoping his words would get through. "Look, I know with your 'previous' lifestyle you guys didn't allow yourselves to become attached or lay down roots in case you had to flee the country for whatever reason, but letting people in is what makes life worth living. What good is a mansion full of stolen artifacts if there's no one there to share your success with? Don't get any ideas by the way…"

He nudged Neal's side with his elbow, opting for manly comfort instead of an all-out chick flick hug. He was relieved to hear a half laugh, half sob escape from his young consultant's lips as his friend struggled to pull himself together again. Neal finally dropped his hands to respond to his partner, though his eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"What would be the point in trying? I know you'd just catch me again." The right corner of his lips turned up slightly in a feeble smile, a shadow of the Caffrey he used to be.

"Damn straight." Peter smirked. "My point is the rest of us are still here. You're not alone in this, Neal, so don't shut us out. You have good friends who care deeply about you, and you've got me and El. Hell, I think you've even stolen Satchmo's loyalty cause that dog never listens to me anymore when you're around. Face it, kid. You're family now."

Neal looked up at that as though searching for any deception behind his partner's statement. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, when all he saw in Peter's kind smile was honesty.

Peter chuckled and reached out to ruffle Neal's hair, instantly reducing him from a stylish business partner to a pesky kid brother. The poor guy deserved a break after all the emotional turmoil he had been put through lately. "Come on. Food's gettin' cold."

Neal cleared his throat. "Yeah, just give me a sec, okay? I'll be down in a minute."

"Take all the time you need. That's why we invented microwaves." Peter winked, then gave his friend some space.

Neal scrubbed a hand wearily over his face once he knew he was alone. Peter was right. There _were_ a handful of people he cared about and who cared about him, and though he had no doubt they would all lend an ear if he had the urge to talk things out, he didn't quite have that comfort level with them yet. Not even with Mozzie.

The little guy was the closest friend Neal had before Peter came along, and he knew a lot about Neal; his past, his interests, his favorite cons, his preferences of wine, and he was there when Neal first started falling for Kate. Mozzie was a great friend and Neal would trust him with his life. But it's much harder to trust a conman with his heart and soul.

The primary issue he faced wasn't lack of friends though, it was that he had no intentions of making himself that vulnerable to _anyone_. It was bad enough his mind forced him to relive the explosion day in and day out. The last thing he wanted was for everyone else to know how weak he was because in his line of work, that made him an easy target.

Not that he thought Alex or Moz would betray him like that, but he was used to bottling his emotions up for his own protection. And that was a tough habit to break. If he hadn't been so exhausted, he probably wouldn't have been so open with Peter either.

He was perfectly content wallowing in self-pity in June's empty loft. There, he didn't have to put up a façade and pretend everything was fine. There, he could literally lock the rest of the world out and let his mask crumble without anyone being any the wiser.

He glanced over at the bedroom window and contemplated sneaking out before Peter could force him into another painful heart-to-heart, but then he sighed. You just can't walk out on family.

Neal set his jaw, steeled his nerves, then headed for the bedroom door before he could change his mind again.

TBC

More angst, damaged Neal, and comforting Peter on the way! Thanks so much for all the reviews so far, and please keep them coming!


	3. Comfort

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

To Neal's relief, dinner passed pleasantly enough. The three of them shared light-hearted banter and avoided any topics that could potentially trigger one of his flashbacks. Neal was grateful for the reprieve and managed to eat more than he had in a long time, to the point of being uncomfortably full.

His content stomach and lack of sleep made him feel really drowsy. He blinked heavily, trying to stay focused on what Peter and El were saying.

"…so that's the last time I wear _this _tie out in public…" Peter finished, loving the sound of his wife's jovial laughter. Realizing that Neal had been uncharacteristically quiet lately, he glanced over at his friend to find his head drooping and his clouded eyes slightly out of focus. "Neal?"

Neal's head shot back up and he forced his eyes to widen, pretending he hadn't just been drifting off. "Huh?"

"Why don't you head upstairs and get some sleep? I'll clean up."

Neal quickly stood, reaching for the closest plates. "Please, allow me. Last thing I want to do is come off as a mooching guest. At least let me _earn_ my keep…"

Peter debated on letting Neal play the busy-work card, but changed his mind when his normally stealthy consultant nearly dropped the stack of dishes on the floor. It was clear his exhaustion mixed with his anxiety tremors was making him rather uncoordinated.

"Neal, freeze."

Having been on the receiving end of that command numerous times, Neal reacted instinctually and did as he was told.

"Put the plates down."

Neal's head tilted to the side and Peter knew his friend was about to protest. And sure enough… "Oh, come on, Peter. I just wanted to…"

"You can earn your keep by not smashing my wife's favorite dishes. We've got this, okay? You need to get some rest."

"But I'm not tired," Neal whined. They all knew it was a pointless lie, but he wasn't about to give in without a fight.

"Yeah? Tell that to your face. You can barely keep your eyes open."

Not wanting to make the situation more uncomfortable than it had to be, El quietly stood and gathered the plates before heading towards the kitchen.

Neal turned as if to help her but Peter stood up, easily switching masks from friend to authoritative figure. "Neal."

El slid past her guest with a sympathetic smile, then Neal turned back to his caretaker with a drawn out sigh.

"I just need a little coffee and I'll be fine, Peter."

"What you _need _is some sleep." Peter frowned. "Why are you fighting me on this?"

Neal opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I…" He wanted to tell Peter about the nightmares. He really did. But… "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Peter watched Neal trudge up the stairs like he was walking death row and he shook his head. This evasive Neal really had him worried. He knew his friend would always have his secrets, but Neal had never outright lied to him before tonight. Or at least, that's what Neal had claimed.

He was going to prove to his consultant that he could trust him if it was the last thing he ever did. Apart from Neal being his responsibility, Peter had formed a true connection with the conman ever since the day they first met. He cared about the kid. And he'd be damned if he was going to let all the progress they had made together go down the tubes now.

Peter was going to get the real Neal back; the cocky and confident con artist who could sweet talk his way into and out of any situation. He was going to get his _friend_ back, no matter what it took.

By the time Neal reached the top stair, his whole body ached with exhaustion. Still, he continued to push himself past his limits. Almost robotically, he went to his overnight bag and pulled out the plaid pajama bottoms and white T-shirt Mozzie had packed for him.

He had barely finished getting changed when he collapsed, stomach first, onto his guest bed and surrendered to the darkness.

Peter helped Elizabeth finish washing the dishes, though she could tell his mind was elsewhere. She smiled understandingly and plucked the towel from his hands. "Hunny, just go."

"Huh? No, it can wait…"

"I've got this. Really. Go check on him."

Peter kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks, El."

"Uh huh. I'll meet you upstairs as soon as I'm finished."

Peter jogged up the stairs, preparing his excuse for checking up on Neal already. He settled on asking him whether he needed anything else for the night and as he turned the corner into Neal's room, his question immediately stumbled to a halt.

Neal was sprawled, face-down, on top of the sheets, snoring softly into his pillow with a few strands of hair hanging in front of his eyes, making him look ten years younger. Peter smiled affectionately. _Not tired my ass…_

He moved silently into the room, pulling the comforter up over his friend's body without disrupting his slumber. Peter gently cupped the back of Neal's head, his way of saying goodnight, then slipped back out of the room without his friend being any the wiser.

He met up with Elizabeth in the hallway. "How's he doing?"

Peter put a finger to his lips, letting her know to keep her voice down. "I think he's gonna be okay."

She smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist, and they walked side-by-side to their bedroom.

A few hours passed in peaceful silence, but then Neal started to dream. It was the same nightmare that had been plaguing him for the past two months.

It always started out pleasant enough; memories of being with Kate, how looking into her eyes made his heart beat twice as hard, how her smile gave him peace and comfort, how her laughter brightened even the darkest of days…

She was beautiful. And she was his… until Fowler took her away. Neal's brow furrowed in his sleep as he flashed back to the phone call when she warned him about the man with the ring.

"I need you to tell me where you hid everything."

"Why?"

"He wants something. Something you took… Give him everything."

_Just say yes, Neal… Tell her yes! "No."_

"_Please. I wanna come home."_

"_I can't. It's the only leverage I've got."_

He tried to move towards her, but for every step forward that he took, she took one back. He started running but somehow she kept getting farther away. _Kate…_

Neal began tossing and turning, getting himself tangled up in the comforter.

"Give him everything, Neal. It's the only way you can help me."

"Kate, please wait…"

He reached out to her but couldn't get close enough to make contact. A tear slid down her cheek and suddenly she was standing in the doorway of a plane. _"It's too late, Neal. Why wouldn't you help me?"_

"_Kate? Kate!"_

The plane slowly became engulfed in flames. She started screaming.

"_Neal…!"_

"Neal!" Peter, who had been woken up by his friend's frantic whimpers, rushed into the guest room to find Neal tossing frantically beneath the comforter. "Neal, wake up!"

El stood in the doorway, wrapped in her bathrobe, with a hand over her mouth. When a fist came uncomfortably close to Peter's face, he latched onto Neal's wrists, pinning them to the mattress beside his friend's head. "Neal! Snap out of it!"

"Kate… Kate!" Neal cried out, still trapped within his nightmare and fighting against Peter's grip with all he had.

"Damn it, kid, open your eyes!" Peter demanded, desperate to break him out of his Hell.

Just as the plane exploded and the flames were about to reach Neal, a harsh slap to the face brought him to abrupt consciousness. He sat bold upright, unintentionally lunging into Peter's open arms.

Peter grunted in surprise as the air was knocked momentarily from his lungs, then managed to wrap his arms securely around Neal in hopes of comforting his traumatized friend.

"Hey, it's okay, Neal. I've got you, buddy. I've got you. Deep breaths…" His grip tightened as his consultant blindly clawed at the back of Peter's shirt to find some sort of purchase that would ground him to the present.

Neal was still struggling to orient himself. He felt claustrophobic, like someone was squeezing the very air from his lungs and he panted harshly. His throat burned from the sudden adrenaline rush and his entire body was covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

After a few moments in which Neal's wide eyes flitted about the room, he connected the familiar location to the soft voice in his ear. "P-Peter?" he stammered out, voice raspy after his previous yelling.

Once she saw that Neal was in good hands, El silently disappeared down the hall to the nearest bathroom to get him a glass of water.

"Yeah, pal. It's me. You're okay." Neither of them realized that Peter had taken to rocking them slowly back and forth as though comforting a small child.

Neal's chest was aching and he was starting to feel lightheaded as he struggled to draw in air, his anxiety wrapping around his lungs and heart like an anaconda. Peter could feel his friend's frantic heartbeat and hitched breaths against his own chest. He slipped a hand between them, placing it over Neal's racing heart.

"Hey. You need to breathe with me, Neal. Nice and slow. In… and out… That's it… Again." He coached his friend for a few more minutes until Neal was able to breathe on his own and the tension slowly drained from his body, leaving him weak and shaking.

"You with me, buddy?" Peter tried, rubbing soothing circles on his friend's back.

"I sh-should've said yes…" Neal gasped out, barely above a whisper. He was clearly speaking more to himself than to his partner.

Nevertheless, Peter pulled away just far enough to look at his friend's distraught face. "What's that?"

"Could've ended it… long time ago. It's my fault she's dead, Peter. I g-got her killed." Tears were streaming from Neal's bright blue eyes as he blinked imploringly up at Peter, seeking redemption from the only person who still mattered in his life.

"No." Peter gripped Neal's biceps, almost painfully, and gave him a harsh shake. "You listen to me, Neal. Kate's death was _not_ your fault, do you understand me?"

"B-but I…"

"Stop. It was notyour fault. I promise you, those who _are _responsible will pay." Easing his grip, Peter moved his right hand up to cup the back of Neal's neck, making sure he had his undivided attention. "I just need a little more time to figure things out, alright? But I _will_ get them."

After a few moments, Neal finally nodded, bringing his left hand up to rub his thumb and index finger against his eyelids.

"Come here…" Peter pulled Neal gently towards him until his consultant's forehead was resting against his chest, then slid his hand to the top of Neal's head and waited patiently for his friend to pull himself back together again. "It's gonna be okay."

Meanwhile, El stood in front of the bathroom cabinet, filling a cup with water. She glanced up into the reflection as an idea crossed her mind. Biting her lip, she warred with herself for a moment then decided that drastic times called for drastic measures.

TBC

Please keep those amazing reviews coming! They inspire me to write more! *hint hint* lol


	4. Rest

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

Elizabeth opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sedatives, hesitating only a moment before crushing three of them and letting the powder dissolve in the water. It was for his own good after all.

Back in the bedroom, Neal composed himself enough to straighten up and dry the tears from his face. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the sudden flare of nausea at bay as the adrenaline finally abated.

"These nightmares…" Peter began. "Are they always this bad?"

Neal dropped his gaze, feeling embarrassed and pulling even further away from his partner now that he was getting his wits back. "Not always. Sorry for waking you."

"Don't be. Feds rarely get to sleep anyways. I think it's part of the job description."

Neal forced out a huff of laughter, humoring his friend.

Peter glanced over at the alarm clock by Neal's bed and sighed. "It _is_ still the middle of the night though."

"I know. You should go back to bed, Peter."

"Not until you do," Peter replied stubbornly.

Neal's eyes widened in fear at the thought. "No. I can't. Not after that."

"You need your rest, Neal. And I need you sharp if you're comin' into the office with me in the morning."

"I'll be fine, I promise. I've done more with less."

"This is non-negotiable. If _you_ don't sleep, _I_ don't sleep."

"Peter, that's ridiculous. There's no reason you can't…"

"You're right. I'd like nothing better than to be asleep in my bed right now next to my beautiful wife."

"So go."

"It's all on you, buddy. Do I get to sleep or not?"

Neal licked his lips, pulling his bottom one into his mouth and biting down on it. Peter could be so frustrating sometimes. There had to be a loophole somewhere… "Fine." He laid back down stiffly against his pillow. "See? I'm going back to sleep. You can go now."

Peter smirked at his friend's childish attempt to thwart his rules. "Not so much. You're still awake."

"I can't fall asleep with you staring at me, Peter. It's… uncomfortable."

"If you could sleep in prison, you can sleep here. Close your eyes."

"I… I can't," Neal admitted softly in defeat. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared determinedly at the ceiling as he blinked back the moisture that was slowly filling his eyes again.

"Why not?" Peter already knew the answer of course, but the first step in recovery is to admit you have a problem.

Neal lifted his head again to shoot his partner a half-hearted scowl. Was Peter really going to make him say it out loud?

"You _know_ why."

"Tell me anyway."

"Not this game again…" he groaned, feeling his exhaustion tugging at him the more he tried to fight it. Peter had a way of wearing him out with his verbal battles.

"Just say it, Neal."

"Because every time I close my eyes, I watch the love of my life go up in flames, okay? Happy now? Damn it…"

Neal sat back up, tossing the comforter aside and placing his feet flat against the floor. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, then started wringing his hands in his lap again like he had been doing in Burke's office. It was the only way he could control the shaking.

Peter stayed quiet, watching his friend intently and waiting for him to make the next move. Just as he predicted, Neal broke the silence soon after.

"I can see Kate smiling at me from inside the plane. I can feel the heat from the fire against my skin. I hear the ringing in my ears and… and I think I was screaming. God, Peter… I could smell her burning flesh…"

Neal was wringing his hands so hard now he was leaving red marks across his skin but didn't seem aware of what he was doing. He was too lost in his thoughts.

"Neal, stop." Peter, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, reached across and laid his hand on top of Neal's until they stilled.

When Neal looked up at his partner, there were tears falling down his cheeks again and his wide blue eyes revealed how lost and scared he felt. Peter let out an audible sigh.

"You can't keep doin' this to yourself, buddy. If you continue burning the candle from both ends, you'll run yourself into an early grave. You've got to move on." He held up his hand when Neal started to protest. "I'm not sayin' forget about her or what happened. I'm just sayin' you have to remember to keep _living_. Kate wouldn't have wanted this for you."

Behind the safety of darkness, Neal let a little more of himself slip out past the mask. Later he would chalk his rare display of openness up to pure exhaustion. "I don't know how much longer I can deal with this, Peter. I keep telling myself, 'Tomorrow will be better. You just have to make it through till then.' But it's been two months already, and it still feels like it just happened yesterday."

"Neal…"

Neal stood abruptly, not interested in hearing Peter make excuses for him anymore. It was time to pull his game face back on. "I'm sorry, Peter, but this was a bad idea."

He started for the door but Peter jumped up and stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Whoa, hang on. Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Back to June's. Just because _I_ can't sleep, it doesn't mean I have to ruin your night too."

"Nice try, but you're not goin' anywhere, Neal."

Neal bristled. "You can't keep me here."

"Actually, I can. I took your anklet off because you're under my supervision. That means you're _my _responsibility. Don't make me put it back on you again."

Neal shrugged, goading Peter to make a move. "Do what you have to do."

"Damn it, Neal…" It was like talking to a brick wall sometimes.

"Go back to bed, Peter. And tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for keeping you."

El, who had been listening right outside the door, chose that moment to step back into the room before things got out of hand. "No apologies necessary, sweetie. I don't mind sharing him once in a while."

She smiled softly, hoping to put their guest at ease. "Look, there's no sense waking June up in the middle of the night. If Peter promises to stop badgering you, will you reconsider and stay?"

"I wasn't _badgering_ him…" Peter grumbled indignantly, still holding a hand to Neal's chest to prevent him from storming out. "We were just talking, El."

"Well save the _talking _for tomorrow. You both look exhausted." She pushed her husband's hand down, hoping to make Neal feel less trapped. Then she turned her attention to the younger man who still seemed to be debating on whether he should be leaving or not. El made the decision for him. "Hop back in bed, hunny. We'll leave you in peace."

Neal glanced back at his cold and empty bed and a shiver ran up his spine. "I uh…" Neal cleared his throat as his mouth went completely dry from nerves. "I think I'm gonna stay up for a while longer if that's okay with you, Elizabeth."

Peter was about to start another argument about him needing to sleep but El gripped his forearm and squeezed it hard as a warning. "That's fine, Neal. You take all the time you need. Oh! Here…" She handed him the glass of water. "You sound parched. Drink up. It'll help."

"Thanks." Neal gratefully took the cup and started gulping the liquid down.

El exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband, the two of them having a silent conversation to which Neal was oblivious. Peter got the message that El had tampered with the drink somehow and he set his jaw, keeping silent as he watched his partner unknowingly ingest the concoction.

Neal was halfway through the drink before the funny taste registered. He grimaced. "Think there's somethin' wrong with your tap, Peter. It kind of tastes like…"

He drifted off as his vision swam and he slowly made the connection, then turned back to El with a wide-eyed look of horror on his face, feeling betrayed. "You… You drugged it?"

El smiled sadly at him. "It's for your own good, Neal. Just a mild sedative to help you sleep peacefully. Trust me, you need it."

Neal shook his head, trying to fight the effects of the drug but it was powerful and fast acting. The room started to spin and his tunnel vision upset his stomach once again. He blinked hard, hoping to clear the blackness from the edges of his sight as he stumbled sideways a bit, managing to latch onto the corner of the dresser for stability.

El gently slid the cup out of his hand before he could drop it, and as Neal started to sink towards the floor, Peter swooped in, pulling Neal's arm around his neck and wrapping his own arm around his friend's waist.

"Come on, buddy. Back to bed." He started guiding Neal away from the door. Each step they took, Neal became that much heavier in his arms. It reminded Peter of when Nurse Rachet had drugged him and Peter had had to carry his boneless body through the hallways without being seen.

Neal was far from light thanks to his muscular build and Peter was relieved they only had to go a few steps this time before he was able to carefully lower his partner down onto the mattress.

"Peter…" Neal practically whimpered, clinging to the front of Peter's T-shirt while he still had the strength to do so.

Peter took Neal's hands into his own before pulling a chair up to the side of the bed and making himself comfortable. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Neal. You just rest, and if you start dreamin' again, I'll be right here to wake you up. Promise."

Neal sized him up as though judging whether he'd be up to such a task or not, then apparently decided Peter was worthy of his trust and nodded. His eyelids were getting heavier by the second but he had one last point to make before he gave in to the pills. "You're the only one, Peter…" he whispered, hoping his partner would catch the reference.

"I know, buddy. I won't let you down. Sleep."

"Don' wanna… Kate…" Neal mumbled, then he was out.

Peter glanced up at his wife with surprise on his face. "Damn, hunny. How much did you give him?"

El glanced down at their mutual friend who appeared to finally be sleeping soundly. "Enough," she replied simply and Peter couldn't argue that. He knew it had to be done. He also knew he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep that night. Neal clearly needed it more.

"I'm sorry, El, but…" he gestured to his unconscious friend, letting his wife know he was planning on sitting vigil all night.

She kissed him on the forehead. "I know, babe. I'll go get your pillow."

"Thanks, hun."

El slid quietly from the room and Peter settled back into his chair, making himself comfortable. He may not be able to erase Neal's painful memories, but this…? This he could do.

TBC

Thanks again for all those encouraging reviews! Please keep them coming!


	5. Robot

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

Elizabeth was the first to wake the next morning and she quietly slipped out of bed, making her way down the hall until she stood just outside of the guest room. Peering in from the open door, she had to smile.

Neal was still relaxed and sleeping soundly, head tilted towards Peter with one hand across his stomach and the other down by his side.

Her husband had placed his pillow on the left side of the bed just inches from Neal's hip. Peter's right hand was positioned strategically over his consultant's heart and she knew it was his way of registering his friend's panic right at the onset.

Any increase in Neal's heartbeat, and Peter's unconscious mind would alert him to the change, waking him up and allowing him to calm Neal before the nightmare could fully take hold of him. No matter how much Peter complained about the younger man, there was no denying that he cared about the kid and would do anything to protect him.

El was pretty sure the feeling was mutual for Neal. He looked up to Peter and respected his authority, adopting him as the father figure he never had. She only hoped this disaster with Kate didn't ruin the close bond they had forged.

Leaving the boys to their peaceful slumbers, she made her way downstairs to put on a pot of coffee.

Peter was the next to wake when Neal's subtle shifting dislodged his hand from its resting place on his consultant's chest. Burke sat up stiffly with a soft groan as his back protested the movement. Glancing down at Neal's face, he made sure his friend was still nightmare free, then checked his watch.

10:26am. Whoops. They had both overslept; big time. But Hughes would understand. He had told Burke as he was leaving the day before that getting Neal back on track was Peter's top priority now. The FBI needed their consultant back, and Peter was happy to accept the task.

No one knew or understood Caffrey as well as Peter. Though the conman tried desperately to hide his true emotions, Peter could read Neal like a book and it was obvious the kid had been close to the breaking point for a while. A day off of work would be good for him. Besides, Peter had other plans for them already.

It was obvious from Neal's previous meltdown that he wasn't fairing well at all with the after affects of the explosion. And while the drugs had allowed him his first decent night of sleep in two months, the pills weren't a permanent solution to the problem; more like a band-aid.

There were still more damaging issues to address beneath Neal's faltering mask of confidence. And just as pouring alcohol on an open wound is a necessary evil to prevent infection, Peter knew what he had to do wasn't going to be enjoyable for Neal, or himself for that matter. But he would do whatever it took to help his friend get past his tragedy.

Peter was debating with himself about whether or not to wake Neal up for breakfast when a low moan alerted him to the fact that his consultant was coming around on his own.

"Neal?" he questioned softly, knowing his friend was most likely suffering from a drug-induced hangover.

Neal's features fell into a grimace as his head throbbed and his stomach flipped. Not the best way to start the morning…

"You with me, buddy?" Peter tried once again.

Another pitiful groan confirmed that Neal was in fact conscious and definitely not happy about it. He brought an arm up to cover his eyes from the sun streaming in through the window.

"Ugh… Peter? What the hell happened last night?" Neal mumbled, wondering how much he had had to drink during yesterday's dinner.

Peter frowned. "You don't remember?" He reached forward, placing the back of his hand against Neal's cheek.

Neal jumped slightly at the contact, raising his arm just enough to see what his partner's intentions were.

"Easy, Neal. Just making sure you weren't feverish."

"I feel like crap, but I don't think I'm comin' down with anything."

When Peter pulled his hand back looking slightly guilty for Neal's current state, something clicked in the back of the con's mind.

"Wait a minute… Elizabeth. She drugged me." There was slight admiration mixed in with the accusation. Apparently few had managed to pull one over on Caffrey in the past.

"She did," Peter confirmed, "but it was for your own good." He immediately prepared himself to defend his wife's decision if need be. Surprisingly though, Neal didn't seem to be upset about it anymore.

"I know," he admitted, carefully raising himself up onto his elbows. "I get why she did it, Peter. I've gotta admit, that was the best night of sleep I've had in a long time, even if it wasn't natural."

Peter had had to wake Neal occasionally throughout the night but luckily the drugs had been powerful enough to keep his friend from remembering the nightmares and Burke was perfectly happy letting it stay that way.

"Good. I'm glad. You look like you're feelin' a lot better too."

"Aside from the pounding headache, yeah. I feel rested again."

Having heard the boys talking from downstairs, Elizabeth decided to bring up a tray for Neal now that he was awake. She knocked politely on the doorframe before entering.

El winced when she saw Neal reach up and absently rub his forehead with a grimace. "Hey, sweetie. I brought you a peace offering…" She handed over the tray with buttered toast, a glass of orange juice, and two small red pills on it, the latter of which Neal was now eyeing warily. "It's just Advil, I swear. I know from experience those sedatives can have some not so pleasant side effects…"

Knowing El was seeking his forgiveness in her own way, Neal felt obligated to take the pills, just to prove that he still trusted her. He even forced down a slice of toast. She beamed at him.

"Where's _my_ breakfast in bed?" Peter asked, clearly joking with his wife. "Why is _he_ always the one getting pampered around here?"

"Oh, hun, I've got something _better_ for you..." She winked at her husband, then stood and walked behind him.

Peter quirked an eyebrow, intrigued by her words. "Oh yeah?"

El started massaging his shoulders and neck, knowing he must be feeling stiff after the way he slept last night. Peter groaned in approval. "Have I ever told you you're my favorite wife?"

She nudged him in the back with a laugh. "I better be your _only_ wife, mister."

Neal's eyes widened in mock discomfort and he placed the half-empty tray by his side, sliding his way out of bed. "And on that note… I'm gonna go take a shower if that's okay with you."

"Help yourself, hun. Towels are in the hall closet. Just yell if you need anything else."

"Thank you." With a slight nod to Peter, he exited the room and padded softly down the hallway.

"He seems to be doing better…" El stated softly to her husband, resuming his massage.

"Not sure that's a good thing," Peter replied with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"Neal is known for hiding things. He was only slipping up because he was thoroughly exhausted. The body can only take so much abuse before your emotional state starts to crumble. Now that he's gotten some decent sleep though…"

"You think he's put it all behind a mask again?" El finished for him.

"I do."

"Maybe you should get him to talk to someone at the bureau. They've helped _you_ through a few tough situations in the past…"

Peter shook his head. "I mentioned that to him but he shut me down. He won't even talk to the people he trusts. He certainly won't spill his guts to a stranger."

"What other options does he have?"

"I think this one's on me, El."

She let out a slow breath. "Okay. Well, if anyone can get through to him, it's you, babe. You know him better than anyone."

He smirked, thinking back over all the research he had done on the conman who had eluded him for so long. "You're right. And I think I've figured out what I need to do to help him through this."

Neal came jogging down the stairs, towel drying his hair as he went. His familiar smile was plastered on his face and a hint of mischief was back in his eyes.

"You were right, Peter. A night out was exactly what I needed. Thank you for letting me crash here. Hope I didn't cramp your style too much."

"I think I'll survive, and you're welcome here any time. Well, _almost _any time."

"So long as I don't interrupt your breakfast again. Got it." Anyone else would see the kid's charming wit and happily believe that Caffrey was back. But Peter knew his friend was more or less gone now, locked away inside Robot Caffrey's head for protection.

"Hey, Peter? You realize Hughes is going to tear us a new one for coming in so late, right?"

Peter sipped the last bit of his coffee from his warm mug and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"He certainly would have if I hadn't called us out already."

"_You_? Mr. Law-Abiding FBI Man, taking a day off work? Alert the presses…"

"For your information, Mr. Smart Ass, I _have_ taken days off for certain occasions in the past."

"Let me guess, you were in a coma and the nurses refused to wheel you into FBI headquarters?"

Elizabeth, who had just finished her bowl of cereal across the table from her husband, sucked in her bottom lip to keep from laughing at how well Neal knew Peter.

Burke looked slightly frazzled by Neal's accurate guess before responding. "First of all, it was a concussion. I was never in an actual coma. But there were other days I took off as well. Hunny, back me up here."

"I…" El started to laugh outright. "I'm sorry, babe, but Neal's right. It's been a long time since you've taken a day off that didn't involve dire circumstances."

Peter blinked at her. "Not helping."

"So what was your excuse for today?" Neal prodded, getting a little more serious as he assumed correctly that Peter was doing this for his benefit.

"Road trip," was Peter's simple reply.

"Road trip? To where?"

"Go get in the car and you'll find out."

Neal shifted nervously in his seat. "I really need to get back to June's place, Peter. Moz only brought over one night's worth of stuff and I…"

"Neal."

"…I'll be waiting in the car."

TBC

Sorry for the extended delay everyone! Please keep those awesome reviews coming!


	6. Partners

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

"Peter, where are we going?"

Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You realize you've asked me that sixteen times since we've left the house?"

"You still haven't answered me," Neal countered.

"And I'm not going to answer you _this_ time either, so quit asking."

Neal frowned. "You're not telling me cause you know I won't like it."

"You really hate surprises don't you?"

"Surprises don't tend to work out for me if past experiences are anything to go by."

"You know I have your best interests at heart, Neal?"

"Yeah…"

"So trust me and just relax until we get there, alright?"

Neal slumped back in his seat with a frustrated huff, resembling a petulant five-year-old and making Peter smirk. "Fine."

"Good. Thank you."

Ten minutes passed in complete silence while Neal stared out his window and tried to figure out where they might be headed. When he played out every feasible scenario he could think of and still came up empty handed, he caved.

"The suspense is killing me, Peter. Can you please just tell me already?"

"Oh, for the love of… I swear to God, Neal, if you ask me that one more time I'm going to tape your mouth shut for the remainder of this trip, understood?"

Neal scoffed. "As if a piece of tape would stop me."

"Don't _make _me drug you again, Caffrey."

Neal's eyes widened at the threat. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Needless to say, the conman didn't utter another word until Peter put the car into park. In fact, Neal had taken to distracting himself with daydreams of what his life with Kate would have been like if their escape plan had succeeded.

Because of this, it took him a few seconds to realize they had even stopped, and a few _more_ seconds to realize where they had ended up. He paled at an alarming rate as he took in their surroundings.

"What are you doing?" Neal asked his partner, barely above a whisper.

"I need you to trust me, Neal," Peter answered back calmly. "This is for your own good." He studied his friend, noting the sudden pallor to his skin and the fact that he was close to hyperventilating now.

"I can't be here, Peter. Please. Let's just go."

As Neal talked, his eyes never left the scorched tarmac a few yards away from their vehicle. This… This is where he lost everything. His chance for a real life, his freedom, Kate…

"Hey." Peter reached out and clasped Neal's shoulder, trying to draw his attention away from the airstrip. "Look at me, Neal."

Neal turned to him with tears in his eyes, looking lost and hurt. It almost made Burke want to turn the car around and speed as far away from the site as he could. He had known this was going to be hard, but he never anticipated it would be like this.

"You're gonna be okay, kid. Just breathe."

"Don't do this to me. Not you." Neal locked eyes with Peter, begging him to whisk them to safety.

Peter swallowed hard, steeling his resolve, then squeezed Neal's shoulder in a feeble attempt at comfort. " Come on. Get out of the car."

Neal pulled away from Peter's grasp, cramming himself against the passenger window. "No."

"Neal, do it. Now."

"I'd rather go back to jail." Neal set his jaw to show defiance and to stop it from trembling.

Peter sighed. "I didn't wanna have to do this, buddy…" He got out of the driver's seat, strode around the car, and wrenched Neal's door open, reaching inside and taking hold of the front of his partner's shirt to pull him bodily from the vehicle.

"Wait! Don't!" Neal struggled but Peter dragged him from the car like he had done with many reluctant perps in the past, shoving his friend up against the side of the vehicle to keep him from doing anything stupid while Peter slammed the door shut.

Neal's fists were clenched around his handler's wrists but he was too stunned by Peter's sudden aggressive behavior to make any real attempt at breaking his hold.

"Listen to me, Neal…"

"I trusted you, Peter. How could you…?"

"Stop. I need you to hear me out."

Neal's eyes had wandered past Peter and were locked on where he had last seen Kate before she was killed. Peter gave him a harsh shake to regain his attention.

"Neal! Focus!" Peter waited for his consultant's eyes to snap back onto him before continuing, trying desperately to ignore the anger he saw there that was boiling up just below the surface. "You want to leave here, you have to get past me first."

Confusion mixed with the underlying hatred in Neal's expression. "What?"

"Get past me. Come on. Give it your best shot." Peter gave Neal another little shove before releasing him and taking a few steps back. He turned and threw his car keys as close to the explosion site as he could get. "Go get 'em."

Neal straightened up, pushing himself off the car and staring at Burke warily. What was the game here? What was the point? He took a step to the left and Peter mirrored it. He tried taking a step to the right and received the same result.

"I've seen you evade the law, Caffrey. You can do better than that," Peter goaded.

Neal feinted to the right and made a break for the left but Peter was there to trap him. Burke shoved him backwards a few steps and prepared himself for the next round. "Again."

Neal tried to get to the keys with everything he had, becoming more and more frustrated as each attempt failed. He was starting to get tired and he was definitely sick of the games.

"Try again," Peter encouraged.

Neal gave it one last go, running hard towards the left, only to pivot back on his heel and swing around towards the right but just as he thought he had finally succeeded, Peter tackled him to the ground.

Neal sprawled painfully on the tarmac as Peter controlled the fall enough to turn him so that he landed on his back and Peter landed on top of him to keep him pinned down. Out of options, Neal finally surrendered.

"Why are you doing this?" he practically whimpered in defeat, tears mixed with sweat on his face as he gasped for breath.

"Because you're not just a consultant to me, kiddo," Peter answered simply, easing his forearm from against Neal's throat to give him some more breathing room. "You're my friend. Now then, are you ready to listen?"

Unwilling to submit verbally, Neal settled for nodding, going lax under his partner's firm grip.

"Good." Peter shifted the majority of his weight onto the ground but kept a hand flat against Neal's heaving chest in case he tried to pull off one last-minute escape attempt. "I need you to be honest with me. This isn't about fear or revenge _is_ it, Neal."

"I don't know… what you're talkin' about," Neal panted back.

"For a conman, you're a terrible liar. You know, my first thought was that you were making plans to find Kate's killer to make him pay. Then when I talked to Mozzie, he confirmed that you've also been worried that there's a target on your back as well. That the explosion could very well have been meant for you too."

"It's crossed my mind," Neal confessed, echoing Mozzie's words from the park.

"Revenge and fear are both valid issues you and I will have to discuss in the near future, but they aren't what's responsible for keeping you up at night, are they. The flashbacks, the shaking, the nightmares and lack of appetite… This is about guilt."

"Peter…"

"Don't even try to deny it. Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Peter didn't think it was possible, but Neal paled even further at the thought of what he might've let slip while in his sedated state the night before. Burke worried his friend was going to faint before he could get his point across. "Put your knees up, Neal, before you pass out."

He patted Neal's knee to make sure he got the message, then waited patiently while Neal dragged his feet in and tried to compose himself again. "Wh-what did I say?"

"Enough to get my attention."

Neal attempted to save face. "In all fairness, those were drug-induced nightmares so you can't hold anything I might've said against me."

"Nice try, but we both know the drugs weren't responsible. Look, buddy, you put on a good show for everyone, but I think you've forgotten that _I'm_ the one who caught you. Twice."

"You just _had_ to rub that in, didn't you," Neal stated, no heat behind his words.

Peter smirked down at him. "My point is, I _know_ you, Caffrey, and I know you're suffering even though you're tryin' your damnedest to hide it. So you and I are gonna stay here until my words sink in, got it? Kate's death was _not_ your fault."

"You don't know that. I should've just given Fowler what he wanted from the start," Neal lamented. "Maybe he would've just taken it and let us go…"

"We don't know who's been pulling Fowler's strings, Neal. He could just be a lackey in this mess, same as us."

"Doesn't matter. He was holding Kate against her will. That means he played a part in her death, regardless of whether or not he set off the explosion."

"Did you know the plane was going to blow up?"

"What? Of course I didn't!" Neal tried to push Peter's hand off his chest and sit up but Burke used his height advantage to keep his consultant down. He had a feeling if Neal tried to get vertical right now, he'd end up right back on the tar.

"Then you couldn't have saved her," Peter reasoned, ignoring Neal's glare for being kept on the ground.

"I should've protected her. It was my fault she got caught up in all this in the first place."

"Neal, stop it. This wasn't your fault. I don't care how you slice it. You didn't know what was going to happen. Therefore, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it."

"Maybe you're right and I couldn't have stopped it, but what if she didn't die instantly, Peter? What if there was still time to get her out and I just stood there and watched?"

"There's no way she could have survived that explosion, kiddo. And, as we just established, there was no way I was gonna let you anywhere near that inferno, no matter how hard you tried. So if you want to blame someone for holdin' you back, blame me. But don't you dare keep blamin' yourself for something that was entirely beyond your control."

"If I say I blame you, will you let me up?"

Peter could tell Neal was emotionally exhausted and was reverting to his old light-hearted humor to defuse the situation. He pursed his lips as he debated on whether or not to let his friend off the hook so easily.

Neal's wide, bright blue eyes were pleading with him to just let things go, but Peter knew in situations like these it was best to play hard or go home. All or nothing. If he was going to risk damaging his friend's psyche by dragging him out to the root of his nightmares, he was going to make damn sure that his point was received loud and clear.

"It's a start, but I'm not letting you up until you convince me the guilt trip is over."

Neal turned his head away from his partner, knowing the fastest way out of this situation would be to lie. But he also knew he couldn't lie to Peter's face.

"I… I can't. Of course I don't blame you, Peter. You're not the one who got her mixed up in all this. I did, and that's somethin' I'm gonna have to live with for the rest of my life. Thanks for tryin' to help me though. It means a lot. But this is somethin' I've gotta deal with on my own."

"Like hell you do." Noting that most of the color had returned to Neal's face, Peter held out a hand. After a slight hesitation, Neal took it and Peter eased him into a sitting position. "I've got your back, Neal. Whatever it takes to get you past this, I'll do it. That's what partners are for, buddy. Get used to it."

TBC

Thanks again for all the amazing reviews, and please keep them coming!


	7. Misdirect

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

A/N: Sorry for the massive delay everyone! Blame it on the writer's block! This chapter meshes back in with the first episode of season two again for a short while, though there are some details that differ for those of you who are looking for them. Enjoy!

Burke and Caffrey sat side-by-side in silence, taking in the aftermath of the explosion and remembering the events of that horrible afternoon from two very different perspectives. Neal had lost the love of his life, and Peter had nearly lost a dear friend.

Peter shot a furtive glance over at his consultant, wondering how long it would take before the kid finally decided to talk. Having been on many stakeouts throughout his career, the agent was a patient man and had no problem waiting his friend out.

When the silence seemed to stretch on for hours, however, Peter was starting to worry that Neal had gone into shock. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed him so hard…

"I wanna get past this, Peter," Neal finally stated softly, making the older man sigh in relief. He turned his full attention to his consultant as Neal continued. "I know I need to put this behind me, but I can't. Not yet."

Peter nodded in understanding. "Cause whoever rigged that plane to explode is still out there."

Neal rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "With my anklet on, I'm a sitting duck in a two mile death trap. If Kate's killer _does_ want me out of the picture, it won't be hard to do."

"I'm not gonna let that happen, Neal. Even if I have to cramp your style and put you under 24/7 watch, I'll keep you safe."

"We don't even know who we're lookin' for yet. They could be more rogue agents like Fowler. They could work in the same office as us and we wouldn't be any the wiser."

"Then we'll just stick to _my_ team till we know for sure. I trust Jones and Diana with my life and I can guarantee you that they..."

Neal was shaking his head before Peter finished his sentence. "It's not about trusting the team, Peter. I just can't spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if every person I pass on the street is involved or not. I don't wanna run anymore."

"Paranoia can wear you down fast. That's how we catch most of our suspects you know. If we pursue them long enough, they eventually slip up cause of the stress. Or _give_ up as some cases may be…" He smirked and gently nudged Neal's arm with his elbow. "Twice."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Neal's mouth. "That constant level of stress can be a little overwhelming at times."

"I'll bet." Peter fell silent again as he sized up his partner, hoping against hope that the kid was mentally sane enough to at least consider his next proposition. "Look, Neal… I know you've got issues against arming yourself, but…"

Neal tensed instantly at the thought. "No, Peter. No guns. Not even now."

"Believe me, the thought of you packing isn't the most comfortable idea for me either, but it might help you sleep at night," Peter tried pushing but Neal just wasn't taking the bait.

"If I need that kind of protecting, I'll call you and Jones."

"You could always stay at my place till we get this resolved. I know El wouldn't mind."

"I appreciate the offer, but I need to get back to normality."

"I figured you'd say that. You should at least take a few more days off though. Get your head straight and get some real sleep."

Neal finally tore his eyes away from the explosion site in favor of sending a pleading look at his partner. "Don't bench me, Peter. I need to keep busy. It's the only thing that helps."

"I get it, Neal. Believe me, I do. But hiding behind work isn't the solution here."

"Maybe not, but it makes things a little easier to bear."

"Tell you what. Let's compromise. Take the rest of the day off and relax. If you get a few hours of decent sleep tonight, I'll consider letting you back on the Architect case tomorrow."

"Deal."

"Alright then. Let's get you home." Peter rose stiffly to his feet, then extended a hand for the second time that day to pull Neal up as well. "I'll get the keys. You wait in the car."

Neal spared the site one last glance before nodding and heading for the vehicle. He only had to keep it together for a little while longer. Once Peter dropped him off, he could vent his pent up emotions in the privacy of his own place and his partner wouldn't be any the wiser.

The drive was a relatively short and quiet one and Neal felt immense relief when Peter finally put the car in park just outside of June's home. Neal wanted to leap out of the vehicle, dash upstairs, and slam the door on the rest of the world. Instead, he climbed out of his seat, slowly and gracefully, and plastered a smile on his face.

"Home sweet home."

"June will be thrilled to have you under her roof again," Peter acknowledged, exiting the car as well.

"You don't have to escort me, Peter. I think I know the way from here," Neal jested.

"First thing's first…" Peter held up the anklet and Neal sighed resignedly. The younger man took the confining contraption and, using the hood of Peter's car just to irritate him, he secured the anklet in place.

Refusing to take the bait, Peter bit the inside of his cheek and didn't dignify the move with any response. Instead, he busied himself with retrieving Neal's suit jacket and carry case from the backseat. "Don't forget these either."

"Thanks."

"Now go up there, get comfy, and get some sleep. Understood?"

Neal mock saluted. "Sir, yes, sir."

"Good. I'll call you in the morning."

Neal watched Peter pull away, then headed inside to one of the few places he truly considered a home. It wasn't long before a familiar voiced called out his name.

June smiled broadly at the return of the handsome young conman and walked him right upstairs to open the door for him since his hands were full. "I kept everything as you left it."

Neal glanced around, confirming his landlady's statement. A comforting calmness washed over him that he hadn't felt in months. As he turned to address June, his eyes caught sight of Mozzie sitting stiffly at the edge of his couch, looking guilty.

"Exactly as I left it, I see," Neal grinned, placing his carry case on the floor and draping his coat over it.

"I'll leave you boys to catch up."

"Thank you, June. For everything." Neal walked over to the sweet woman and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She patted him on the upper arm with a kind smile. "Of course." Then she left, closing the door behind her.

Once they were alone, Neal turned his attention back to Mozzie who looked a bit worse for the wear. Mozzie jumped to his feet and shuffled his way over to Neal, unsure of how angry his friend was going to be with him for conspiring with the Suit behind his back.

He stopped his advance short, intentionally staying just out of arm's reach for his own safety. "Neal…" he greeted tentatively, waiting for his friend's reaction to gauge how best to respond.

"Moz," Neal acknowledged passively.

Unable to take the awkward tension any longer, Mozzie dove straight into his defense. "Look, before you say anything else, Mrs. Suit was really convincing about wanting to keep you over night and I was just trying to…"

"Thank you," Neal interjected.

Mozzie stuttered to a halt, surprise written all over his face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said thank you, Moz. I think a night away was just what I needed."

"You're not mad?"

"I was at first," Neal admitted, "but I get why you did it. I haven't been myself lately and I know you were just trying to help."

Mozzie nodded. "Dare I ask how things went?"

Neal opened and closed his mouth a few times, floundering while trying to decide if he wanted to divulge the details of their little road trip or not. Then it struck him that going to the airstrip may have been part of the plan since the start in which case Mozzie would already know. There was only one way to find out. "How much did Peter tell you exactly?"

"Not much. You know how the suits like their secrets. If it helps, _he_ contacted _me _first. I wouldn't have initiated our little coup in a million years. But when we met up in the park he seemed genuinely concerned, so I did what I thought was best."

"And I appreciate that you were worried about me, but next time, just talk to me if there's an issue, okay? Peter's got enough on his plate right now without thinking I'm gonna go section eight on him."

"I can respect that. From now on, it's upfront honesty. I swear."

"Good. So let's see it then."

Mozzie led Neal over to the kitchen table. "There's a lot."

"I know."

He pulled out file after file from a box on one of the chairs and they poured over them together for hours, working their way through a bottle of wine in the process.

When the sun had finally set and they were still empty handed, Neal's initial excitement started turning to frustration. "This is everything?"

"Yeah. Everything on your search for Kate, Fowler, Mentor…"

"Have you heard from Alex?"

"No. Since the… explosion, she's been laying low. Can't blame her."

Neal nodded. "She'll surface. What about the music box?"

"According to the evidence log, the new lady suit…"

"That would be Diana."

"Diana logged it into evidence in the New York office after Peter recovered it from Fowler."

"I wanna see if it's still there. Whoever blew up that plane wants that box. They're not gonna let it sit around in an evidence locker collecting dust. We find the person who wants the box, we find who killed Kate."

As Neal discussed his plan with his friend, he felt that ever-present anger welling up inside himself again and had to step away from the table before he misdirected it towards Mozzie.

He stepped out onto the balcony, crossing his arms over his chest as though physically trying to protect his heart even as it proceeded to shatter within his rib cage. There had to be an answer in those files somewhere. There just had to be.

Mozzie watched his friend sadly, wishing there was more he could do for him. Then he remembered Peter's original idea- Keep Neal busy and focused on their cases. He picked up the business card Neal had left on the table earlier and read it out loud.

"The Architect. That's an excellent sobriquet. Is this your first case back?"

"Yeah," Neal threw back over his shoulder, then zoned out again, lost in his memories of Kate and the horrible way she was taken from him.

Mozzie frowned, not getting the reaction he had been hoping for. He had to protect Neal from himself, whatever it took. He tried again. "I need a new nickname."

"Mozzie's not cutting it anymore?" Neal responded with a slight twitch of amusement crossing his lips.

Finally, a reaction. Mozzie pressed on, determined to keep Neal in the here and now. "What about… um… the Question? Or perhaps, the Skeptic?" When Neal dropped his head with a huff of laughter, Mozzie knew he was moving in the right direction. "Conman!" he blurted out, feeling like he was on a roll.

Neal finally turned back to him, an incredulous smile on his face. Now that Mozzie had his attention once again, he brought the conversation back to the case at hand. "The Architect. He's a bank robber?"

"A good one. Since when are you concerned with FBI cases?" Neal asked suspiciously, knowing his friend had an ulterior motive.

"Uh… Since you started spiraling into the dark place…?"

Neal set his jaw, realizing what his friend was attempting to do.

"I know you've got a lot on your mind these days, Neal. So if there's anything I can help with, just say so. As you may remember, I _have_ colluded on a bank heist or two in my day."

Neal smirked. "I appreciate the offer, Moz, but I think I'm gonna call it a night. It's been a long day."

"Of course. We can always pick this up again tomorrow if you want. You should get some rest."

Neal motioned towards the bathroom. "I'm just gonna…"

"Yeah. Go for it." Mozzie watched sadly as his friend walked away from him and hid behind the large wooden door. He had made _some _progress, but it was far from enough. He sighed, wondering what his next plan of attack should be when his cell phone buzzed, alerting him to a new text message from "The Suit."

It read, "How's he doing?"

Mozzie bit his lip, glancing towards the bathroom door again before responding. "Not great."

There was a lengthy pause and then another message appeared. "Check his inside right jacket pocket. Don't leave him tonight."

TBC

Shout out to blueland10 and scifigeek22 for inspiring me to get this chapter written! Better late than never right? Thanks for being patient everyone, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait! Please review and I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner. On to the Neal/Mozzie comfort session!


	8. Suffering

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

Neal stood in front of the bathroom sink, leaning heavily on it and watching the water cascade down the drain. The sound was oddly comforting. Knowing he would have to leave the privacy of the bathroom eventually, he sighed, then splashed some water on his face before turning the faucet off.

He glanced up at his reflection in the medicine cabinet's mirror and noted how drawn and tired he still looked. The past twenty-four hours with Peter had been nothing short of exhausting but he did feel like some of the weight had been taken off his soul. That had to count for something.

While Neal took his time enjoying his short-lived independence, Mozzie tiptoed his way over to the jacket his friend had left a few feet from the front door. Searching the aforementioned pocket, he quickly found what Peter had left for him; a plastic bag with a handful of small, white pills. The note taped to the bag said, "slip him three."

Mozzie frowned, peering closely at the little pills until realization kicked in and his eyes widened. He jumped when the running water suddenly stopped and scampered his way back towards the kitchen on the other side of the room, hoping he wouldn't look too suspicious.

After waiting a few moments with bated breath, he sighed with relief when Neal didn't immediately emerge. Glancing around, Mozzie grabbed a clean glass and hurriedly filled it with water. He then pulled three of the pills from the bag and dropped them in, uncertainty upsetting his stomach as he watched them dissolve.

It was bad enough he met with Peter behind Neal's back, but to drug him now without his knowing would be an even bigger violation of their trust and friendship. He attempted to convince himself it was for Neal's own good and that he was secretly doing him a favor, but that didn't calm his acid reflux in the least.

Mozzie nearly dropped the glass into the sink when the bathroom door opened and Neal stepped out looking slightly better than when he had entered. Seeing Mozzie's less-than-graceful recovery, Neal frowned.

"You okay, Moz?"

"Right as rain, mon frere. Why do you ask?"

"You seem a bit… on edge." Neal spared the drink a glance but kept his face neutral.

"Nonsense. Just slipped is all. The condensation is working against me."

"It does that sometimes."

"You should probably take this before I break something expensive. I was getting it for you anyway." Mozzie held the glass out and, after a slight hesitation, Neal accepted it.

"Thanks… You know you don't have to stay, right, Moz? I'm fine. Really."

"Says the guy who can't stay tethered to the present. You think I want to face the wrath of The Suit if you crack on my watch? No thank you. Besides, I was hoping for a nightcap and you have a better wine collection than I do."

"Can't argue that…" Neal jested. "I guess I'll see you in the morning then." He raised his glass. "Cheers." Neal brought the drink to his lips.

"Neal, wait!"

Neal immediately lowered the glass again. "What's wrong?"

"The Suit can put me in lockdown for all I care, but I can't betray my best friend."

"You talked to Peter?"

"Yes, and no. The details aren't important. But the point is, I… I tampered with your beverage. I'm so sorry, Neal. Your handler put me up to it but I couldn't follow through. I'm just not the roofying type."

Neal couldn't help but laugh. "I was wondering when you'd finally cave. You had me worried for a few seconds there."

Mozzie's jaw fell open in shock. "You _knew_?"

"Of course I did."

"But, how?"

"Fool me once… Elizabeth drugged me last night. It was obvious from your shifty behavior, not to mention the very subtle clouding of the water."

"You always did have a penchant for details. Why didn't you say anything before?"

Neal shrugged. "I wanted to see if you'd go through with it. And for the record, I'm glad you couldn't. Thanks for telling me, Moz."

Mozzie nodded slowly in understanding. "You were testing me. Did I pass?"

Neal smirked. "With flying colors." With that, he downed the contents of the glass in three large gulps.

"Neal! What are you doing?"

"Peter was right. Much as I hate drugs of any kind, it's the only way I'm going to get a decent amount of sleep and I need to show him I'm ready to be put back on the case tomorrow morning. Gotta do whatcha gotta do sometimes, right? Sleep well, buddy."

"Yeah, you too…" Mozzie mumbled, still surprised by his friend's unexpected actions. "Sweet dreams."

Neal smiled sadly. "One can only hope." With that, he moved off to his bedroom before the drugs kicked in and knocked him unconscious.

Mozzie sank heavily onto one of the kitchen chairs. This wasn't at all how he thought tonight was going to go, but he had to admit he was relieved Neal wasn't mad at him. Caffrey was his only real friend. He didn't know what he would do if he lost him.

Neal could already feel the drug tugging him towards the darkness as he slipped under his sheets. He only hoped the pills would be strong enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

Hours passed in peaceful silence aside from Mozzie's soft snores emanating from the couch. He nearly jack-knifed off the comfortable cushions though when a loud shattering sound came from Neal's bedroom.

"I know Kung-Fu!" he shouted to the room at large before he realized that no one was breaking in. "Neal…"

Throwing the blankets off himself, Mozzie stumbled to his feet and raced across the room to check on his friend. Neal's soft cursing alerted him to the fact that the conman was no longer asleep.

As Mozzie reached the bedroom, he switched on the overhead light to find Neal sitting on his bed, cradling his right hand, palm up, within his left. Several splotches of deep red stained the sheets that were pooled in his lap and a few drops had also marred the wife-beater he was wearing.

One quick glance at the floor justified the grimace on Neal's face. A beautifully crafted table lamp lay in pieces by the bed. Apparently Neal had been flailing violently and the poor lighting fixture paid the price.

"Neal, what just…?" Mozzie's question was interrupted by a frantic pounding on the front door.

Neal sighed, dropping his head in embarrassment as his landlady's voice reached his ears. "Neal, sweetie, is everything alright in there? Please open the door!"

"I've got it," Mozzie offered and went to let the worried woman in.

"Mozzie? What's going on up here? Are you boys okay?" As she talked, she bustled her way past the small man and headed straight for Neal's bedroom to see what happened with her own eyes. She froze in the doorway with a hand over her mouth when her eyes took in the blood splatters. "Oh, my…!"

"Just an accident, June. I'm fine though. Sorry I woke you."

"Doesn't look fine to me, hun. I'll go call 9-1-1."

"No! Really, it's not necessary. Just a scratch, I swear. I'll bleach the sheets, and I promise I'll pay for the lamp."

"I couldn't care less about that old thing and don't you be worrying about the laundry. You've got enough on your mind as is. Let me see your hand."

"It's really not…"

"I'm not gonna take no for an answer, dear. Let's see it. Mozzie, there are first aid supplies in the bathroom."

"On it!" Mozzie excused himself as June moved over to the bed.

Neal continued to look anywhere but at her as his cheeks burned brightly. It was bad enough he was having nightmares without everyone he cared about knowing it.

"Look at me, hunny." June reached out and gently lifted Neal's chin. "You don't have to hide from us. We're here for you, through the good times, and the bad."

It was incredible how much this kind woman put him at ease. She was like the mother he could barely remember. He smiled weakly, unable to do much else aside from swallow down the lump in his throat.

June cupped his cheek with a warm smile back before moving her hand down to carefully encircle his wrist.

"Nice and easy now…" With June's soothing guidance, Neal slowly turned his hand palm down to reveal a jagged slice across the back of his hand and his knuckles were peppered with small shards of glass.

Bruising was already evident around the injured skin and June tutted to herself at the state the young man was in. "You never do anything halfway, do you?" she joked, hoping to lighten the air a bit.

"Hazard of the job I guess." Neal winced as June began lightly prodding the areas closest to the open wound to check for any broken bones.

Mozzie came shuffling back into the room, arms ladened with supplies, and paled almost instantly at the sight of Neal's hand.

"That's a lot of blood…" he muttered, eyes widening to comical proportions.

Neal quickly draped the already stained sheet over his hand to block it from sight. "Moz, you might want to wait in the other room for a bit. This could take a while and I know you're uncomfortable with…"

"No. I'm staying." Mozzie took a deep breath to get himself back under control. "The Suit left me in charge and said not to let you out of my sight, but I clearly failed and must now suffer the consequences." He inched forward, placing the supplies by Neal's feet.

"Why don't you make yourself useful then and clean up the broken glass before anyone else gets hurt," June suggested, knowing it would help Mozzie if he had something else to focus on.

"Yes! Why don't I do that. I'm gonna go grab a dustpan and brush. Yell if you need me."

June chuckled as Mozzie took off again, then turned her attention back to her patient. "Shall we get started then?"

"You don't have to do this, June. I feel bad enough as it is for waking you in the middle of the night."

"Don't be silly. I'm happy to help. And Byron used to come home with much worse injuries from cons gone wrong so I've had my fair share of medical experience. Don't you worry. I'll have you good as new in no time."

Reaching forward again, she carefully unwrapped Neal's hand from the sheet, cognizant of the glass shards.

"Right then." Sifting through the supplies Mozzie had brought over, she pulled out a syringe and a small bottle full of clear liquid. "Let's get that hand numbed up before we go any further."

Now it was Neal's turn to pale. "I… I'm not really a fan of needles, June." He started to tug his hand back out of her grip but relaxed again when she put the needle back down.

"Are you sure, sweetie? It's going to be very unpleasant without it."

Neal nodded. "I can handle it."

June could feel the slight tremors coursing through Neal's hand when she took it back into her own and she smiled sadly at him. "I don't doubt it, baby, but you shouldn't have to. Don't you think you're suffering enough already?"

TBC

Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving this Thursday and get to celebrate it with your friends and family. And please review if you get the chance! Thanks!


	9. Teamwork

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

"_I can handle it."_

June could feel the slight tremors coursing through Neal's hand when she took it back into her own and she smiled sadly at him. "I don't doubt it, baby, but you shouldn't have to. Don't you think you're suffering enough already?"

When Neal's only response was to drop his eyes to the sheets again, June sighed. "You don't have to admit it out loud. I've seen the look of crippling guilt on a man's face before and it's written all over yours now. I know you don't want to hear this, but Kate was a grown woman who was fully capable of making her own decisions. Whatever deals she made, it's not on you."

"You don't understand, June. I… Oww!" Neal jerked backward instinctively when June decided that pouring alcohol on the open wounds would be the best way to shut him up.

"Easy now. Just give it a second." June blew lightly on the frothing liquid to ease the sting a bit, keeping a tight grasp on his wrist.

They had only known each other for a few years, but the boy felt like a son to her. She wished she could find a way to protect him from all the pain and the dangers of the criminal life but, just like Byron, he would have to learn on his own that there were no answers down this path of illegal activity.

The secret to happiness was getting out and living an honest life with the ones you love, however many may be left. Neal was young though. He still enjoyed the thrill of a good heist and the complexity of a well-executed con. So just like she did for her husband during his bad boy days, the best she could do was patch up his injuries and lend a strong shoulder when needed.

After the pain eased to a manageable degree, Neal forced himself to relax and allowed June to continue tending to him. When the bubbling had slowed down, June used one of the towels Mozzie had brought in to dab lightly at the jaggedly torn skin.

Neal gritted his teeth and swallowed hard when June put down the towel in favor of grabbing the tweezers. She glanced up into his beautiful blue eyes, noting the barely concealed trepidation within them.

"You ready for this, hunny?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." He turned his face away from his hand and tried to prepare himself for what was to come.

Just as June was about to go for the first piece of protruding glass, Mozzie made his reappearance.

"Is it safe to come in yet or… Oh, sweet Elvis Costello! I can't just stand here and watch you butcher the guy!"

"Too bad, Mozzie. Cause if you're a true friend of Neal's you'll put your own discomfort aside and distract him while I work."

"Distract him? With what? A life-sized Trojan Horse that dances and sings?"

"It's okay, June," Neal jumped in. He turned to his friend. "You don't have to stick around for this, buddy. I know _I'd_ leave if I could."

Mozzie sighed in resignation. "No you wouldn't. You're too nice for your own good. Fine. I'll stay. But I have to warn you, I have a very delicate gag reflex so try to keep the bleeding to a minimum."

"I will do my best," Neal deadpanned.

Mozzie shuffled into the room like he was walking the plank and sat down tentatively next to Neal on the bed. "Do… Do you want to hold my hand?" He timidly held his arm out for his partner in crime to accept or reject.

Neal snorted. "I appreciate the offer, Moz, but it's not gonna be that bad. It's just a few…"

June yanked out the first piece of glass while Neal's attention was focused elsewhere, making his sentence end with a pained gasp. On reflex, Neal reached out for something to ground himself to and latched onto Mozzie's hand with a bone-crushing grip.

Mozzie brought his other hand up to pat Neal comfortingly on the shoulder as the younger man tried his best to breathe through the pain while June worked as quickly as she could to rid his hand of the shards.

"Some of these cuts are really deep, Neal. You might need stitches if the bleeding doesn't stop on its own." She wasn't sure which of the boys paled faster, Neal or Mozzie.

"Have you considered alternative medicine?" Moz offered. "White vinegar could do the trick, or if the place wasn't always so immaculate, I'd recommend spider webs. They work wonders, or so I've heard…"

Neal stared at his friend, looking completely dumbfounded. "Spider webs? Seriously, Moz?"

"What? You've never tried that before?"

"Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"Well now you know if you're ever in a pinch and in need of a Band-Aid. Cayenne would also do the trick by the way."

Neal shook his head with a chuckle. "You're a fountain of information, Mozzie."

"Lucky for you since you seem to attract violent situations lately."

"Speakin' of violence…" June piped in, "Mind me askin' what my lamp did to deserve such harsh treatment?" She was doing her best to keep the young man distracted as well.

"Wrong place, wrong time is all. I really am sorry about that, June."

"You want to make it up to me, hun, take me dancing again soon and we'll call it even."

Neal smiled warmly at her. "Deal. Ah!" He winced as June maneuvered another sliver of glass from in between two of his knuckles.

"Sorry, dear. That was a deep one."

He breathed a sigh of relief when the last shard was pulled from his skin and June finally put the tweezers down.

"Let me just clean and wrap it and you'll be good as new! Brace yourself now…" Once again, she poured alcohol over his bloodied hand and Neal fought the sudden urge to throw up with everything he had. He was embarrassed enough already.

The blood-tainted liquid ran over his torn skin and dripped down into a collecting bowl June had strategically placed to protect the mattress from getting soaked.

"Almost done," she encouraged. The obvious pain written all over his face damn near broke her heart but she kept pouring until the majority of the blood had been rinsed away. "Sorry, baby, but it had to be done."

Neal took a second to unclench his teeth before responding. "I know."

Dabbing gently at his hand to check that the bleeding had at least been minimized, June then quickly and carefully wrapped gauze around the deeper wounds and secured the bandage in place. "There we go! All set."

Neal cradled his throbbing hand in his lap, slowly flexing his fingers to assure himself that he hadn't done any permanent damage. "Thanks, June. You're a lifesaver."

"My pleasure, Neal. I'll check it again in the morning just to be sure the bleeding has fully stopped and there's no infection. Let me get some fresh sheets on the bed and then you get some more rest."

"I'll take care of the sheets, June. You should…"

"Nonsense. Here." She took hold of Neal's elbow and eased him to his feet, then, noticing he was only wearing a pair of gray sweatpants for bed, she wrapped one of the clean blankets around his bare shoulders for modesty and warmth. "It'll only take me a moment."

With Mozzie's help, they had the bloody sheets balled up by the door and fresh sheets tucked in tightly to keep his flailing to a minimum this time around. Neal blushed slightly and hung his head when June moved the rest of the furniture a few feet away from his bed just in case he had another episode.

"There now. Go back to sleep and I'll be right downstairs if you need anything else." She kissed Neal's cheek as she passed and gave his good arm a gentle squeeze. "Good night, boys."

"Night, June," Neal and Mozzie said simultaneously.

Neal stared at the bed as if it had double-crossed him and was now pointing a gun at his chest. He knew it was silly to loath and fear a bed, but he was too tired to care. If he fell back asleep in it tonight, there would be no telling what he might do.

When the silence stretched on a little too long, Mozzie cleared his throat.

"So this latest nightmare… Was it about Kate?"

Neal instinctively jumped on the defensive, though his exhaustion prevented his argument from being convincing. "What makes you say it was a nightmare? Maybe I'm just clumsy." He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, feeling uncomfortable and emotionally exposed.

Mozzie scoffed. "Please. Give me _some _credit, Neal. I've known you long enough to know you're like the most graceful person on the planet. You probably haven't tripped since you were three."

Neal chuckled but the humor didn't quite reach his haunted eyes. "We _have_ known each other for a long time, huh?"

"I should say so. Look, buddy, I may be a conman by trade, but you know you can trust me as a friend, right? If you ever wanted to talk… about anything."

"Yeah. I know, buddy. And I appreciate it."

An awkward silence fell over the room once again. Mozzie shifted uncomfortably a few times, then slowly made his way towards the door. "Alright then. I guess I'll just leave you to your…"

"She was right there, Moz," Neal blurted out. At his friend's confused look, he elaborated. "I knew it was a dream but I couldn't wake up. Kate was right there in front of me and there was nothing I could do."

"So you reached out for her and hasta la vista, lamp."

Neal nodded. "I've been having the same dream practically every night since it happened. No matter what I do, I can't change the outcome. It's like it's taunting me for failing her."

Neal was looking so broken that Mozzie's brain went into overdrive to try and find his friend some peace. "Do you want me to get your pills?"

"No!" Neal shouted without meaning to. "I mean, no thanks. They're obviously not keeping the nightmares away and if anything, they just make it harder to wake up from them."

"Good point. How about some warm milk instead? Or perhaps a glass of wine?"

"I don't think wine's gonna cut it tonight, Moz."

"Alright, milk it is then." Mozzie held up a hand when Neal opened his mouth to protest. "Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning."

Twenty minutes and half a cup of warm milk later, Neal was dosing off underneath the fresh smelling sheets, though he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Surrender to the darkness, my friend," Mozzie encouraged, easing the glass out of Neal's lax grip. "You're exhausted. That alone should get you into a deep enough sleep where nightmares can't torment you. At the very least, you won't remember dreaming when you wake."

"I'm scared, Mozzie," Neal stated so softly his friend barely heard him. "I can't watch her die again. I just can't."

Mozzie sat down on the edge of the bed. "You know why our cons always work out, Neal?"

"Cause you're an evil mastermind?"

"Well, yes… But also because of our flawless teamwork. I've got your back, Neal. Now and always. So get some rest and if I see any evidence you've slipped back into the dark place, I'll bring you out of it. You just have to trust me."

"I do trust you, Moz."

"Good. Then sleep. I'll wake you when the Suit comes to collect you."

Neal blinked up at his friend one last time before his eyelids became too heavy to open again. Mozzie waited until the younger man's breathing evened out, then slipped out of the room long enough to collect his chess board.

When he returned, he pulled a chair over to Neal's bedside and set up his board for the first of many games he'd be playing that night. He smiled over at Neal who was sleeping peacefully for a change.

Mozzie never had any real family, but if he had to guess, this is what it felt like to have a little brother to protect. One thing was for sure; he wasn't about to let the kid down. He moved his white knight forward- the symbolism not lost on him- then glared at his invisible opponent, confronting the darkness.

"Your move," he challenged softly.

TBC

Hey everyone! Please keep those reviews coming! Only a chapter or two left I think…


	10. Cheers

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did!

Summary: Neal's got the shakes. Peter's more than a little concerned. Tag to the season two premiere.

To everyone's relief, the rest of the evening passed without further injuries. Mozzie kept a close eye on Neal and spoke softly to him every time he frowned or showed any signs of distress. Hearing a friendly voice was enough to pull Neal back from the darkness.

Come morning, Mozzie was the one looking exhausted but, so far as he was concerned, his noble act was worth every yawn. When the sunlight started to bathe the room in yellow and gold, he quietly slipped to the kitchen to begin making breakfast while waiting for his friend to wake.

Mozzie was halfway through his first cup of coffee when a light knock came from the front door. He shuffled over and opened it to reveal June, looking as bright-eyed and beautiful as ever. The woman was an ageless wonder.

"Good morning, Mozzie. How is our patient doing today?"

"Still asleep."

"Glad to hear it. Lord knows he needs the rest."

"And I could use the company, so thanks for stopping in. Neal is a great guy and all, but not much of a conversationalist while he's sleeping."

June chuckled as she moved further into the main room. "Is that Lavazza Espresso I smell?"

"Is there any other kind?" Mozzie lifted an empty glass in question.

"Don't mind if I do," she smiled back.

They sipped their coffee in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then June decided it was time to check on Neal. She led the way to the bedroom, Mozzie a few steps behind.

Neal was still sleeping soundly on his stomach with his good hand under the pillow and his sore one laying limply on the mattress a few inches from his face. A few strands of his bangs hung down in front of his eyes. He looked all of five years old and it warmed the older woman's heart.

As she sat down on the edge of his mattress, she gently brushed his hair back, letting her fingers comb smoothly through his wavy locks. He began to stir at the unexpected contact.

"Kate…?" he mumbled, his eyes still firmly closed against the bright sunlight.

Mozzie sighed, hanging his head, but June chose to ignore the slip-up of her half-conscious guest. "Time to wake up, Neal." She smoothed the bunched up sheet that was draped around his shoulders, then rubbed his covered back gently, hoping the contact would help guide him towards the present.

Neal slowly blinked his eyes open, grimaced at the light as it pierced his over-blown pupils before they could adjust, then lifted his head enough to glance around the room. "June?"

"Good morning, sweetie. How did you sleep?"

"Better, I think… Thanks to Moz." He smiled sheepishly up at his friend who waved off what he saw as unnecessary gratitude.

"Just doing my part to help right the justice of this world, my friend. It was nothing."

"Down to business then," June continued. "How's that hand of yours doin'?"

Neal stiffly rolled onto his back with a stifled groan, propping himself up with his elbows and lightly massaging his bandaged hand above his stomach. "I think you missed your calling, June. It doesn't hurt that much anymore."

"What doesn't hurt that much?" a deeper voice asked from the bedroom doorway.

Neal jumped but recovered smoothly. "Hey, Peter. How'd you get in?"

"June's granddaughter answered the door." Peter's eyes immediately gravitated towards the conman's bandaged limb. He frowned. "Neal, what did you do to your hand?"

"I…"

"Just an accident, Agent Burke," June responded for him when the boy faltered. "In fact, I was just about to check on its healing progression." She held her hand out for Neal's but he pulled back slightly instead.

"It's fine, June. Really. You don't have to…"

"Neal…" Peter warned. "It's her or me. Decide quickly, but you're not leaving this room until you get checked out."

Grudgingly, Neal held his hand out for June who took it with a smile. She began unwinding the bandages, careful not to jostle his wounds too much. As soon as the damage was revealed, Peter's eyes widened and he crossed the room in three long strides, grabbing hold of Neal's wrist and pulling his arm higher to get a better look.

Neal winced and hissed through clenched teeth as Peter began palpating around his bruised and scabbed-over knuckles, just as the kind landlady had done the night before. "There's no broken bones, Peter. June already checked. It looks worse than it is, I promise."

"Care to explain?"

"You first. Did I have nightmares when I stayed over at your house?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably. He really didn't want to answer that question. "Why do you ask?" he supplemented, buying some time.

"I didn't remember dreaming at your place so I thought the pills were actually working. But I took them again last night and, as you can see, they had undesirable side effects."

Peter sighed. "I'm sorry, Neal. I knew the drugs would keep you out of it enough so that you wouldn't remember in the morning, but I stayed with you all night and woke you each time the nightmares started. I was hoping if you managed a significant amount of sleep, it would help."

Neal nodded in understanding. "Unfortunately, I think the only cure is time. But I am feeling a lot better today, so that's something."

"Glad to hear it. Doesn't mean you're off the hook though. You should take a few more days to give your hand time to heal."

"Come on, Peter," Neal whined. "Don't keep me on the sidelines. Work is one of the few things that helps. It keeps me focused on other things…"

"You mean aside from Kate?"

Neal nodded again. "Yeah. Please, Peter. I can't just sit around here all day. I'll go crazy and you know it."

Peter exchanged meaningful looks with June like two parents deciding whether their son should be grounded or if he learned his lesson. "Alright. But you're on probation. If I see you starting to freak out again on the job, I'm bringing you back home."

"Fair enough. I'll go get dressed." Neal moved to throw the blankets off his legs so he could get up but Peter put a firm hand down on his shoulder, halting his movements.

"Slow down there, Beaver. Let June finish with your hand first."

Neal slumped back against his pillow, practically sulking while June cleaned his cuts once again and put fresh bandages around them. "Now can I get up?" he asked Peter with a slight note of exasperation in his voice.

Peter chuckled, then patted Neal on the head in acquiescence. "Go ahead. Meet me downstairs when you're ready."

Neal slipped from the bed and padded his way towards the bathroom.

"Neal?" Peter called after him, making the younger man turn back. "Don't forget this." He tossed his friend's favorite hat to him, spinning it through the air.

Neal's hand shot out and gracefully caught it before flipping it onto his head. He tilted the brim and shot a megawatt smile at the agent. Peter clearly knew him better than he thought he did.

Caffrey wore different wardrobes for different personas and aliases. Each one came with one particular item that transformed him into that character. Sometimes it was a leather jacket, sometimes it was an expensive looking watch or a pair of sophisticated looking glasses. He had worn expensive suits as his alter ego, Nick Holden, so that was nothing new, but the hat? The hat was all Neal Caffrey.

The second it slid onto his head, the fear was gone. The uncertainty and pain were buried. The mask was back up, and it was a good one to hide behind. The cocky attitude and smooth finesse replaced the torment and sadness with which he had previously been struggling. One little accessory, and he was a whole new man.

Everyone present felt the change in the atmosphere as the hat fell naturally into Neal's hand. The room seemed brighter, the air, much lighter. And that's when they all knew it. Neal was going to get past this.

As he shut the bathroom door behind himself, Neal felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew he would never forget Kate, and for the first time, that thought didn't cause him pain. Kate was a woman worth remembering, and he was glad to have known her, even if it was only for a short time.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and smirked. He _knew _it would be Peter who saved him. It would always be Peter. The man had a heart of gold and for some reason, he thought Neal was worth saving. The conman wasn't about to prove him wrong.

Twenty minutes later and they left for the office together, the swagger back in Neal's step. He drew a lot of surprised looks from his co-workers and he didn't feel like shying away from the attention anymore.

If anything, he was back in his element, charming the crowd and having them bend to his will. By the end of the day, The Architect was behind bars and there was another check in the "win" column for Burke's team.

After the thief had been escorted away by agents, Neal and Peter left Edward Walker's home, side-by-side, and Neal would be lying if he said it didn't feel good to close another case.

As they headed down the street together, Peter clapped his partner on the back. "You did good today, Neal. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Peter. You weren't so bad yourself."

"It's good to have you back, buddy."

"It's good to _be _back."

"We wrapped this case up earlier than I expected. El won't be home for a few more hours. Wanna grab a beer before supper?"

"Yeah, sure. There's just somethin' I gotta do first. I'll call you in a few."

Neal went one way and Peter headed in another. He had something to do first as well. Pulling out his cell phone, Peter made a quick call and set up his last appointment for the day. "Meet me in the park in ten minutes. Same bench as before."

Exactly ten minutes later, Peter sat down on the selected bench and opened his newspaper, giving the signal to his paranoid informant.

Seconds later, a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the bench. "I saw a mockingbird in the park." Peter rolled his eyes, refusing to play along. "Then you say 'what color's the mockingbird," Mozzie supplied impatiently.

"I'm doing the newspaper thing, I'm not doing the stupid bird thing," Peter retorted, annoyed.

Mozzie decided to cut his losses and get to the point. "How's he holding up?"

"Better," Peter responded, folding up the newspaper he never intended on reading. "I'm seeing the old Caffrey coming back."

"Good." Mozzie smirked knowingly.

"Whatever part you played in it, you did good."

"I'm sure you didn't call me down here to tell me how great I did…"

"Good."

"Great."

"You did good," Peter emphasized again, not wanting to give the little guy a big head.

"Great," Mozzie shot back once more and Peter decided to change the topic now or risk being stuck in a word battle for the next hour.

"Look, I know he won't tell me everything. I get that. He's Neal. I'll keep an eye on him, _and_ you… But, that puts me in a position to clean _up_ a mess. Not stop it before it happens."

"Oh, that's the part you want _me _to take care of…"

"Just… Tell me if he's gonna do anything stupid."

"I can't rat out my friend."

"It's to _protect _him."

"That's the same rationale that was used by the Gestapo and the KGB."

"Look at me." Peter turned to face Mozzie and waited for him to do the same. "He's _my_ friend too," he stated with complete sincerity. Mozzie could see the truth in Peter's eyes.

"I'll take that under advisement."

"Yeah." Peter stood, leaving the newspaper for Mozzie on the back of the bench. "You do that." As he began walking away, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He knew who it was before he looked at the caller-ID. "Hey, you ready?"

"Good to go."

"Alright then." He gave Neal the name of a nearby pub and waited for him to arrive.

They sat down at the bar and Peter turned curiously to Neal. "Did you take care of whatever it was you wanted to do?"

"Yep. Everything's set."

"Glad to hear it." Peter raised his glass. "To a job well done."

"To friends you can rely on," Neal added before clinking his glass against Peter's.

"Cheers." Peter smiled warmly at his friend, then took a swig of his beer.

THE END

Epilogue:

When June returned home from walking her dog, she found an exact replica of the lamp Neal had shattered waiting for her on the dining room table and a note taped to the base of it stating, "Pick you up at nine. Wear your dancing shoes." She smiled. The old Neal Caffrey was back.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this story! Your support is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoyed the ending. Till next time!


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